


Good Boys Cry

by electrostatics



Series: Reaching an Agreement [4]
Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Begging, Consensual, Consensual bondage, Dom/sub, M/M, Orgasm Denial, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-19
Updated: 2012-09-19
Packaged: 2017-11-14 14:26:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/516172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/electrostatics/pseuds/electrostatics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kasamatsu wants to study, but all Kise wants to do is play.</p><p>(You don't have to read the other stories in the series.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good Boys Cry

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> **[Trauma Warnings: A little bondage, D/s. Everything is consensual.]**
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> For [blackheron](http://archiveofourown.org/users/blackheron/pseuds/blackheron)!
> 
> This story is part of that series where Kise and Kasamatsu are in a consensual D/s relationship. You don't have to read the other stories in the series, but here they are for reference: [1](http://archiveofourown.org/works/495464), [2](http://archiveofourown.org/works/502767).

"Senpai, want to play?"

Yukio glares at his math homework. "Ryouta," he says, looking up to find Ryouta staring at him with his big, hopeful, yellow eyes. Like a golden retriever puppy. "No."

"But senpai," Ryouta whines.

"How many times have I told you no?" Yukio reaches over and flicks at Ryouta's forehead. It leaves a pink mark before fading away quickly, but Ryouta still rubs his forehead and makes a noise that sounds like a dying cat. 

"But senpai, we haven't played in over a week." Ryouta grabs his arm, cuddling up to him, nuzzling his shoulder. 

It's true that they haven't ‘played' in a while, but they've had plenty of sex between studying, practice, and school. Telling Ryouta what to do and being his pillar of support, though, takes a lot more out of Yukio--more than he can afford around exam time. Kise is still a first year, so he doesn't worry as much, but Yukio needs to do well as the year draws to a close.

"You've still got some sparkle in your hair," Yukio says. He reaches up and flicks out the glitter from Ryouta's last photoshoot. Yukio doesn't remember what Ryouta had to do, but he's sure Ryouta will remind him when the magazine comes out. 

"Thank you," Ryouta says. "Now... play?" He smiles. Even when he's not trying to be a model, he's still beautiful.

Yukio narrows his eyes at Ryouta and reaches out with one hand, grabbing his chin. He leans in close until their noses are touching. "Good boys listen to their masters when they say no," he says, his voice low. "Good boys don't beg unless they're told to. Have I told you to beg, Ryouta?"

Ryouta's face flushes, his eyes glazing over. He licks his lips. "No, Sir . . ."

"Then stop." Yukio releases Ryouta's chin. "Don't pout," he says, touching Ryouta's lips. "That's the same as begging. Study."

"Okay," Ryouta sighs. "I'm sorry, Sir." But Ryouta is not being serious or formal right now. Instead, Ryouta is staring at the book in front of him and _doodling_ all over his notes in loud strokes and scribbles.

Yukio's temple throbs. He kicks at Ryouta under the desk. "Fucking study," he says, pointing at the book. "Stop doodling. It's not about playing, Ryouta, it's about passing the exams. Think about how the rest of the team will feel when you can't go with us to the Winter Cup because you're stuck at school getting extra lessons. You're our ace, Ryouta."

Now Ryouta looks guilty. "Yes, senpai," he mumbles, and stares seriously at his book. 

Yukio sighs. He feels like the bad guy, but they both have to study, so he refocuses his mind and continues trudging along in the textbook, reviewing every problem he's gotten wrong on every test--and even the ones he got right (somehow). Ryouta looks like he's trying hard, too; he's also pulled out old tests. Even though looking at Ryouta's scores makes Yukio want to die, he's still proud of him for at least putting in an honest effort at something that isn't basketball.

Yukio manages to get through half of his tests when his eyes start to water and his temples start throbbing. He looks over at Ryouta, who is studying his English as diligently as he can. Ah . . . He's doodling a bit, but Yukio knows he's been working hard, so . . .

Yukio reaches over and takes the pencil from Ryouta's hand. "Come here," he says, and Ryouta's face lights up. He scootches over to Yukio, sliding into his lap and wrapping his arms around Yukio's neck. 

"Are we gonna play?" Ryouta asks.

"Only if you're good," Yukio says, smirking.

"I'll be good," Ryouta says.

"Hn. Show me how good you are and kiss me." 

Ryouta smiles and presses his mouth gently to Yukio's, licking at the crease of his mouth. He pushes Yukio down onto his back and cards one hand through his hair, moaning gently. "Sir," Ryouta gasps. Yukio feels Ryouta's erection pressing against his thigh and smirks against Ryouta's cheek. He pulls at Ryouta's shirt and nips at his lips, sliding his other hand underneath Ryouta's shirt.

Of all the things Yukio likes to do with Ryouta, kissing is by far his favorite. Yukio has kissed people before, each with their own distinct "taste" (alongside the last food they ate), but Ryouta is always surprising him with how sweet his mouth is. Yukio thought it was another one of Ryouta's natural talents (after all, he woke up with that fruity breath) until he woke up one morning to find Ryouta guiltily chewing gum in the bathroom. 

But it's still fun to kiss Ryouta, even with morning breath. Ryouta is always so easy and gentle; he caves under Yukio's insistent tongue, his body going slack against him. Just a few kisses, here and there, well-placed hands against Ryouta's back and his ass, and Ryouta is already whimpering and moaning against Yukio's mouth, his hips grinding against Yukio's thigh.

"No," Yukio says, pushing Ryouta away. "Stop." He moves his thigh and Ryouta groans.

"Sir," Ryouta says. His lips are swollen red and his breathing is uneven and ragged.

"Don't beg." Yukio touches the back of Ryouta's neck, gently, but when he leans up and press his mouth to Ryouta's ear, he makes sure to sound rough. "You'll take what I give you, and you won't complain. Got it?"

Ryouta moans weakly into Yukio's shoulder. "Yes, Sir . . ."

"Get up," Yukio says. Ryouta rolls off him, looking up at Yukio as he stands and sits on the edge of his bed. 

Yukio is hard, too, but he's glad to be wearing loose boxers. He looks down at Ryouta kneeling down on the floor, looking up at him hopefully. Out on the court, outside of this _room,_ Yukio has a thousand things to worry about: university, exams, friends, basketball, winning, captainship. But here with just Ryouta, Yukio sees Ryouta--only Ryouta--and what he wants and needs from him.

"What do you want?" Yukio asks. He strokes Ryouta's hair, tugging him forward gently until Ryouta's forehead touches Yukio's knees. 

"I want to be fucked with the collar on, Sir," Ryouta says.

Yukio smiles. Ah, so honest . . . That's different, too. Ryouta has no masks when it's just the two of them. There is no acting, no model. Just Ryouta, open and honest while he asks Yukio to take care of him.

"With the collar on, huh?" Yukio lifts Ryouta's chin. "Do you deserve it?"

Ryouta frowns. "Yes, Sir."

"Wrong." Yukio squeezes his jaw firmly. "You only deserve it when I say you deserve it. Understood?"

"Yes, Sir," Ryouta says, again. Yukio can see the gears realigning themselves in Ryouta's eyes, the new branch of thought in Ryouta's mind. _I belong to Yukio._

"That's right. You belong to me," Yukio says. "Every inch of you." Ryouta gasps and moans and Yukio feels his cock twitch just from the effect he's having on Ryouta without even _touching_ him. "Your eyes. Your lips. Your tongue. Your back. Your cock. Those are mine."

Ryouta is completely lax against Yukio's legs, his eyes closed as he whimpers and shudders. "All yours," Ryouta whispers.

Yukio reaches over to the bedside cupboard and pulls out the leather collar, wrapping it around Ryouta's neck. Ryouta's neck isn't very sensitive, but when it comes to the collar, just placing it on his skin reduces Ryouta to a pile of goo as he practically purrs like a cat. Yukio knows what it is: it's satisfaction, security--the idea that Ryouta belongs somewhere, and that somewhere is here, with him.

"Thank . . . you, Sir." Ryouta sounds post-orgasmic already, completely blissed out. 

Yukio pets his hair. "You're so easily satisfied," he says. Looking at Ryouta while he wears the collar is one of Yukio's other favorite things. It looks good on him, of course, but it's Ryouta's willingness and eagerness to wear it--his enthusiasm for being so completely and totally owned by Yukio and his every word. 

"No!" Ryouta springs to life, clutching at Yukio's legs. "Fuck me!"

Yukio grins. "So you still want that?"

"Yes," Ryouta says firmly. "Please, Sir. Fuck me."

"I don't know," Yukio says. "I don't know if I want to play right now."

Ryouta whimpers. "Really, Sir?"

"You sound so sad and heartbroken," Yukio says. "Maybe . . ."

Ryouta's smiles eagerly. Yukio's heart skips a beat, but he knows that he can't give in to Ryouta every time he asks for something. 

"Ahh . . . I just don't know," Yukio says. "Maybe you could convince me."

"How, Sir?" 

Yukio smirks. "Beg me."

Ryouta stares up at him, and Yukio stares back. Of course, it's Ryouta who breaks away first, his face flushing. He licks his lips, looking thoughtful, and then he tugs at Yukio's boxers.

"No." 

Ryouta stops.

"Beg me with words," Yukio says.

"Fuck me," Ryouta says, quietly, and then again, "Fuck me, Sir. Please. Please..." When Yukio doesn't respond, he moans, almost breathlessly. "Please, Sir. I need you to fuck me."

"You need me?" Yukio knows that Ryouta needs him, especially now, especially when he's wearing the collar, but he wants to egg Ryouta on.

"I need you," Ryouta gasps. "I need you inside me. Please, Sir, I can't stand it anymore, I want your cock inside me, I want you to fuck me, right now, please, please . . ." He moans against Yukio's knees. Yukio can feel the precome dripping out of his own cock; he can feel just how hard he is listening to how absolutely wrecked and needy Ryouta is, begging to be fucked.

"Well," Yukio says, struggling to keep his voice under control. "All right. I guess I can give you a small gift, since you begged so hard."

Ryouta's face is flushed not only with arousal, but with pleasure. He's _pleased,_ just _happy_ for Yukio's false reluctance. In reality, they both know that Yukio wants it as much as Ryouta.

"Get up on the bed," Yukio says. "Take off your clothes, and get on your hands and knees."

Ryouta jumps on the bed before Yukio can properly give him space, shedding his shirt and boxers. In the span of ten seconds, Ryouta is on his hands and knees, looking over his shoulder at Yukio. "Please, Sir," Ryouta says.

Yukio turns and pulls the lube out of the drawer. He squeezes some out on his hand and spreads it on Ryouta's hole. Already, Ryouta is trying to push back on his hand, trying to get _any_ of his fingers inside of him, but Yukio pulls his hand away. "Don't be impatient, freshman," Yukio says. "Wait." He makes sure his fingers are wet enough before gently pushing a finger inside of him.

Ryouta moans, trying to fuck himself, but Yukio pulls away again. A cry of frustrating tears itself from Ryouta's throat and he buries his face in the sheets. "Sir," he whines. "Please, please, fuck me!"

Yukio presses his finger back inside of Ryouta, and then another, scissoring them inside of him. "Stay still," Yukio says, and Ryouta whimpers and sobs against the sheets, but his body merely trembles instead of thrusting back.

Yukio leans in towards his hand and licks at the skin around his fingers, sucking at the puckered skin, and Ryouta gasps, his whole body tensing. "S-sir!" 

Yukio replaces his fingers with his tongue, fucking Ryouta with it, and even when Ryouta pushes back against him, Yukio doesn't scold him. Ryouta is trembling and moaning in the sheets without reservation, his whole body bare and vulnerable to Yukio's ministrations.

"Sir, Sir, I'm gonna--I'm so close," Ryouta says, his voice strained. He lets out a half-scream when Yukio pulls away completely. "Noo, Sir, please . . ."

"I don't want you to come yet," Yukio says. "Don't move." Ryouta's body trembles, and Yukio waits for Ryouta's breathing to become more even. "Good Ryouta . . . Good boy . . ." He lubes his fingers again and presses three fingers inside of Ryouta this time, fucking him nice and slowly.

"S-sir . . . Sir . . ." Ryouta's whole body rocks in time with Yukio's fingers, and if Yukio didn't want to fuck Ryouta just as bad as Ryouta wants to be fucked, he would gladly finger him until Ryouta came all over the bed, if only because Yukio would be able to see his face while he came.

Ryouta's body jerks and he manages to whimper out, "Sir, I'm close again--!" 

Yukio pulls his fingers out once more, placing a hand on Ryouta's back. "Don't come yet," he says, and Ryouta's body stiffens with the effort. "You wouldn't come without my permission, right?"

"N-no Sir."

"Good," Yukio says. He squeezes more lube onto his hands, slicking his own cock up. He wants to touch himself to the sight of Ryouta, to make Ryouta watch him as he touches himself, but he's teased Ryouta enough for today. 

"Don't move," Yukio says. He kneels behind Ryouta, holding his hips, and entering Ryouta slowly. Yukio can tell Ryouta is trying, so he leans over his back and whispers against his shoulder, "Good boy," over and over again, as Ryouta whines and begs for more, clutching the headboard in front of him.

Yukio's done waiting, too. Once he's buried to the hilt, he starts fucking Ryouta hard, one hand over Ryouta's on the headboard, and the other around Ryouta's cock, stroking him. 

"I'm close, Sir, I'm so close, please, please, may I come, please, please, Sir, Sir." Ryouta is practically sobbing, his whole body shuddering with every thrust.

"Yes," Yukio groans. "Come for me, Ryouta. Be a good boy and come for me."

When Ryouta starts to scream, Yukio covers Ryouta's mouth with his hand, letting Ryouta bite down on his fingers. Behind his fingers, Yukio can hear Ryouta's muffled groans, the desperate cries of "Sir, Sir, Sir, oh."

Ryouta's whole body goes boneless, collapsing on the bed. Yukio turns Ryouta over, stroking his hair. "I want to fuck you still," he whispers into Ryouta's neck. "Is that okay?"

"Y-yeah," Ryouta says.

Yukio's close, too; it doesn't take that long, thrusting into Ryouta's pliant body. Even though he's come already, Ryouta still whimpers and sighs, murmuring, "Sir, it feels good," over and over.

"I'm gonna come," Yukio gasps. 

"Come inside me, Sir," Ryouta says, moving his hips in time with Yukio's. "Please, Sir, _Yukio._ "

The sound of his name makes the edges of his vision go white, and he digs his fingers into Ryouta's hips, squeezing his eyes shut as he comes.

Yukio rolls over on one side next to Ryouta. He breathes hard. His whole body feels like it's reached a new plane of zen and Yukio's not sure he wants to move from this spot in his bed ever again.

Out of the corner of his eye he can still the black of Ryouta's collar, so he reaches out and undoes it slowly. "It's just better if you don't sleep in it," Yukio says, when Ryouta looks at him pleadingly. "That way, it won't hurt you."

"Okay." Ryouta pouts.

"Be a good boy and do it for me." Yukio leans in and kisses him on the mouth, gently.

Ryouta smiles. "Of course."

Yukio grins and tosses the collar into the drawer. "Good." He pats Ryouta on the cheek. "Now, go back to studying, freshman."

"What?!" Ryouta squawks and flails his arms. "But, but--!"

"Don't think I didn't see you doodling all over your study notes at the end," Yukio says, poking him in the cheek. "If you want to challenge me, show me your notebook, now."

"No!" Ryouta sits up. "Fine, fine! I'll study, I'll study."

"Good boy," Yukio says, rolling over onto his side. "I better see progress when I wake up."

"Of course."

Yukio feels Ryouta lean over and kiss him on the ear before Ryouta leaves the bed. It's a little cold and empty, but Yukio can hear Ryouta's pen scratching on his notebook and the pages turning. Just knowing Ryouta is there, listening to him work and breathe, is enough to lull Yukio to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks as always to [cureelliott](http://archiveofourown.org/users/cureelliott) for the quick read-through. :) ♥


End file.
